|Doris makes teaching look so easy, doesn’t she?|
Those of you who follow my blog know I write YA fiction, but you may not also know that I’m a former high school and middle school teacher (15 years), an online instructor, and a teacher trainer. That my other consuming passion is writing lessons for teachers and talking shop with them. I’ve authored, co-authored, or contributed to four different works on the art of lesson design.
That’s right, I said “art.” And let me mix metaphors, in a major way, right now: The art of lesson design is rocket science. An excellent unit of instruction is hard to launch, you have a million variables to consider, and everyone is watching you fail.
Yet there are people who talk about teaching as if they could step in and take a teacher’s job tomorrow. These are the same people who would never dare presume to talk about their lawyer, doctor, or plumber’s skill with any type of knowledge or dare say, “Excuse me, I could do that!”
But let me reel myself in here: this post is not a rant against those who have done seat time in a classroom, apparently suffered, and then look down their noses the rest of their lives at the teaching profession.
Though I do believe it would be a lot of fun to see those folks take on a full day of teaching and see where they are by 3:00 PM. I’d like to be there to tell them to, “Peel yourself off the floor; keep going. Your day has just begun. You have parent phone calls to make; practice/club/rehearsal to run; papers to grade; meetings to attend. Nope, you’re not going home yet, or if you are, please take this bag of stuff, or these gigs of digital work, and please get cracking. And just when you’re most exhausted, you need to be designing cutting-edge, differentiated, 21st-century, Common Core State Standards-aligned, engaging, student-centered, blended, and flipped lessons.”
If you are not a teacher, I imagine at least a few of the adjectives I used sailed over your head. Ed jargon, some call it. And that’s how it should be. A profession worth respecting has a vocabulary–not unlike nanotechnology and neuroscience–cultivated from years of research, experience, and experimentation.
As I work with teachers headed into a new school year, I consider the vast array of knowledge, processes, and new mandates our educators have to juggle when designing lessons, and something in me craves a formula, a distillation of all the complexity in order for our teacher-soldiers to march onward.
So for those of you surrounded by notes, texts, computer, and other resources to plan those units of instruction, I’ve created a formula for lesson planning. It is not perfectly comprehensive or suited to every teacher’s learning style. For example, some of the sequence may not follow the way your brain thinks, but try to take each step as a crucial task and determine how you can approach each one thoroughly.